


Of Murderous Fairy-Godmothers and the Anxiety of One

by TheDivineSword



Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Based on a Fairytale, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, One Shot, Orphans, Other, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDivineSword/pseuds/TheDivineSword
Summary: A rewritten Cinderella. What is the Fairy-godmother wasn't good. This modern Cinderella has gotten orders to kill so she can get her parents back. But does she have the strength to kill? It's a raging battle of desire vs morals and one poor girl who got caught up in the storm.OrMy English essay that I had to write but I spent to much time working on this thing I might as well put somewhere online





	Of Murderous Fairy-Godmothers and the Anxiety of One

My home was like any other on the street, bare-brick walls with red tiling on the roof. The outside was unwashed and dirty. The house seemed to slouch into the ground, hanging its head in shame. I breathed in, banishing the thought of my sneer so-called ‘friends’ from my mind. Banishing the feeling of isolation that ran through me like ice-water.

Not a single person cared for me in this cruel world. Not anymore.

I placed a hand on my chest as my heartbeat slowed and become steady. Rhythmic. Predictable. I knocked on the wooden door three times before letting myself in. 

The inside was in shambles, every wall was covered in peeling paint, the floor half eaten away by termites. I felt my heart begin to quicken, a lump in my throat. I am sorry mother, the house is but a shell of its former self. I walked past the half-eaten food in the kitchen, covered in maggots and mould, hoping the buzzing of the flies would drown out my shame. The clock read 5:47, tik-tik-tik it went, its gentle rhythm easing my anxiety.

There they slept, their breathing steady. Rhythmic. Predictable. My steps echoed in time with each of their breaths.

I kissed them both on the cheek, careful to avoid touching the moss-like substance covering them. I wished for the past. For their gentle embrace, for their caring, warm eyes and for their return.

I was sweeping the floors when she appeared in a burst of light.

A young woman appeared, probably in her early twenties, with a wild pixie-cut full of blue curls and skin covered with enough tattoos that would make conservative grandmothers cry. 

“Hey kid, SHIT! Ah, THAT REALLY HURT, ” she said, grasping her toes and flitting around the room. “I’m your fairy godmother,” she grouched. “You know the drill, I am here to grant you one wish.” I stared in shock. Fairy godmothers were rare after all. 

A wish? All I wanted was to go back to my days of blissful ignorance and to lose the torment of the present. “I want my parents back,” the fairy godmother furrowed her brow thoughtfully, “Exactly how they were, forever.”

The fairy godmother smiled, “That would take some powerful magic. And powerful magic always comes at a high price,” she stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Like a hecatomb?” I replied shakily, my heartbeat growing louder. “That’s not a bad idea kiddo,” she said with a sly grin. “The bigger the sacrifice the longer your parents will return to you. I will return at midnight, you must have extinguished a life by then.” My heartbeat became a stick of drummers, but her firm grip stilled my quivering hands. “You have a deal,” I said with determination.

Two hours later, the night club was in full swing. Donning a low-cut minidress, I walked in. No security to check the guests, animosity was critical for my plan to work. I quickly attached my face mask, the roar of my heart drowned out the techno. The police couldn’t arrest me if they didn’t know who I was.

The clock chimed 9 when I found my target. With blond curls and a fake smile, she drummed her fingers across tabletops and flittered like a hummingbird in a glass cage. Scared. Alone. Vulnerable. Her eyes lit up as she finally found her escape through a red door. 

That was my chance. I shakily slipped on my black leather gloves and traipsed through the red door, my eyes never leaving the small girl.

The room was secluded, no one would disturb us. The door closed behind me with a soft click. At the noise, the girl turned around, startled. Before she could make a sound, my hands had found her throat. 

The storming hip-hop music drowned out her half-audible screams. Her sweat scorched through my skin, I had never felt more alive and yet it felt as if I was the one suffocating.

Her pulse BABUMP-BABUMP-BABUMP was broken. Irregular. Unexpected. She frantically clawed at my arms, each hit burning through my skin. 

Yet I held on.

SHEISDYINGSHEISDYINGSHEISDYING. This wasn’t right. I just couldn’t take away her life. Her heart was faint. But mine was a ballad, roaring to let her go. I screamed as my eyes flooded with tears because I had made my choice.

The fear in her eyes reflected mine, her desperation was so familiar. I couldn’t kill her. . . because when I looked at her, I only saw myself.

She lay on the ground, gasping like a fish out of water. I curled up on the floor, gently rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. As I swayed, the girl got up and bolted out the door, dropping one of her laced heels in the haste. But the drumming of my heart and the gasping of my breath was a song that drowned out the rest of the world. 

Mother, Father, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

The clock struck twelve as my fairy godmother’s inquisitive eyes met mine. “So where’s the body?” she asked, hand on hip.

I had run out of time.

“T-There is no b-body,” I stammered through the tears. She rolled her eyes and groaned, “Well I can’t grant your wish now kid unless--,” she stopped mid-sentence, her eyebrows furrowed--, “I could sacrifice your life instead.” “What?!” I squawked, confused at how this would unite me with my parents.

The fairy godmother was unaffected by my outburst, “I could bind your souls so tightly in the afterlife that you would never be separated. But you would never go back to your old life, ” she grinned, showing all her teeth. “So what will it be, kid? Never getting your parents back or sacrificing your life in the real world?” 

I pondered her offer. 

There wasn’t a single person in this world who cared for me. The shells of my moribund parents paled in comparison to the memories I held. Their predictability was my stability through some of my darkest moments. Their breathing rhythmic, my only comfort now. My breathing became shorter at these comforting memories that I thought had been long forgotten. 

The fairy godmother saw the desperation in my eyes and drew her wand. Moss snaked around my arms, my eyelids turning heavy. My racing breath turned even and my heart rate slowed. Steady. Rhythmic. Predictable. Life was losing its grip on me and I laughed with tears in my eyes. I had escaped the chains that held me to stay in an eternal memory of the past.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> So this is the fan-fiction I've ever written. Uh. . . please be nice:)


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